to play their (my) way
by Jem Doe
Summary: Carrie dies, then wakes up. a reincarnation/time-travel au of sorts


Carrie dies in Sue Snell's arms, pain in every part of her body ( _momma it hurts_ ** _carrie let me go_** ), and then, nothing but the fitful darkness of sleep.

She then proceeds to wake up a little bit before her mother arrives home, the day she has her first period. Her mouth still tastes of blood, so much that Carrie wondered if this wasn't Hell or something.

A quick check on the calendar ( _hurry, hurry_ ) confirmed that she had come back, and her cramps even more so. Sitting down in her chair, stomach filled with pain, Carrie started to think, going over her (and Sue's) memory of the past future week.

The prom ( _blood prom red prom black prom how dare they)_ wasn't Sue's fault, nor Tommy's. It was Chris' ( _make her pay),_ and Carrie couldn't help but grin a little. This time, things would go well, or else. She wasn't sure why she had gotten a second chance at life, considering all the murder she had done before, but maybe this was a chance to live a good life. A fulfilling one.

But first, before she could live her best life, Carrie had other issues to solve. Testing her powers ( _flex)_ , she experimentally rose up her bed, smiling when it flew with no problems, Carrie not even breaking a sweat.

Great. Good. She was going to do her best to survive prom _and_ momma.

* * *

Momma looked at her carefully, screaming at her like she knows of Carrie's powers but no, it's because of her blood, and Carrie goes without even breaking down to the closet. The light shines blue on her face, and Carrie, more powerful than God ( _she is one_ ) looks at the bloodied Jesus on the cross and smiles.

A lifetime ago (one where she hadn't ever tasted blood) she would've been so afraid, so terrified, but this blue Jesus didn't have anything on her. Carrie takes a small nap on the cramped, smelly closet, and then, when she's well rested, pretends she's panicking enough for momma to let her out.

Carrie isn't. She is not the scared cat she was once. She is so, _so_ much more.

* * *

She goes to school and smiles at Chris. Chris calls her a cow, a weirdo, laughs and points at her ( _plug it up_ ), and Carrie lets Chris walk away from her, making sure to pretend to be sad when she makes ( _flex, flex, flex_ ) Chris fall down on her face.

Three times might be too much, _sure_ , blood falling from Chris' nose ( _plug it up_ ), her friends concerned near her like a flock of anxious birds, but _gosh_ , doesn't it just make Carrie smile?

* * *

Carrie went to the library after school. She figures she has to study a little - and luckily for her, the library had a small section about the occult she all but devours (but it's absolutely useless, in the end; nothing explains what she is). While she picks up what she needed, a small book about _How The Brain Works: Mysteries of Life_ makes Carrie pause and frown, remembering how it felt to go through Sue's memories ( _rifling through a book like a woman chasing for something maybe if i_ ) and decided that that one she is taking home.

( _maybe i can control people)_ she thought inks when she starts reading it, laying midair with her book to practice her powers. When Carrie heard some kids playing outside, she let herself float gently to the ground, and hides from their view.

Carrie chose the redhead kid who's screaming the loudest, tapping into their nervous system ( _so many places to go_ ), feeling her instinct guide her until she reaches _(wires? maybe)_ the brain and starts to play with them. It's like the children's toy she never had.

The kid responds to the wires moving, and Carrie absently took notes of what she saw and felt.

* * *

Tommy Ross asked her for prom. The idea was not his, but it's okay. She doesn't mind.

Carrie smiled, bright, and says yes the first time he asks, right away, because he's a good boy who didn't want anything with her other than being nice for a few hours, because his girlfriend asked him to.

She doesn't tell momma a thing, simply arriving home one day with the swathes of nice fabric and the patterns needed for her dress, and momma (God bless her soul, because Carrie is going to put it through the wringer) looked at her.

"What are you doing." It is not a question. Carrie turned from her spot in the sewing machine, watching momma for a second, before grinning like the devil she is.

"My prom dress. I am going, did you know?" She didn't hesitate, turning back to her sewing machine as momma screamed like a banshee, unhinged, drawing blood from her face to make Carrie repent ( _witch devil's child i knew i should've killed you_ ). She won't. She can't. Carrie smiles at the machine, humming along with the radio she turns on by itself ( _flex_ ). "Why don't you shut up? Do you enjoy the sound of your own voice that much?"

Momma screamed louder, going for ( _the kill)_ Carrie, but Carrie simply ( _flexflexflex!_ ) made momma fall down, tapping into her momma's brain. Momma's wires are all crossed up, and Carrie takes pleasure in playing with them.

Like a child, she mixed the wires up even more, watching as momma ( ** _carrieta let me go in the name of the lord_** _no i won't let you go)_ sweatted, a flimsy cold thing Carrie could taste in the back of her throat.

"You will stay quiet. You will stay _put_ , momma, and when I go to prom - I'll be back at eleven, maybe midnight, who knows? -, you will not say a thing." Carrie grinned, madness in her eyes. Momma was terrified. How _fun_. Was this how momma felt everytime she screamed at carrie? "And then I kill you. How does it feel to be powerless, momma? Bet it feels pretty good."

Momma screamed, but only Carrie heard it.

* * *

The prom was nice. The theme was nice, even if she doesn't get it completely, still doesn't understand what a prom needs a theme for. The same people compliment her dress, a soft baby blue - just looking at the red fabric made Carrie sick ( _pig's blood for a pig_ ) -, and Carrie smiled and says _I have sewn it myself_. People are in awe. Carrie loved it, reveling in the positive attention for once (once more, but this time there would be no bad ending). She chatted with Tommy, and once no one is in the stage, she ( _flex_ ) felt up the top of the stage, mind going through it until she finds the buckets (still cold, filled to the brim, smelling of death, copper in her tongue once more), and two people (one anxious, one vengeful; who was the second one? She didn't know who it was). Carrie smiled at Tommy and Norma and comments on the music that had been playing, tipping the buckets.

A scream is heard: one from the upstage, one from the table just by the stage, when the blood spills on a impeccably white dress. A dizzying array of confusion happened, and Carrie stood still, watching as blood seeped in the ground, damning the plans they had to humiliate Carrie ( _make. her. pay._ ), smiling at Chris when she accidentally ( _flex_ ) falls in the blood, trying to run away from her newly minted ( _i won't let you come back here you utter cow it's payback time if you think you're getting off easily you're so mistaken_ ), but it was almost like Chris' legs weren't obeying her - because instead of running outside, she ran to smack dab in the middle of the stage, lights falling in her terrified face in a way that made Carrie gleeful.

Of course, her legs weren't working properly. Carrie was the one putting out orders in Chris' brain.

Chris started shrieking, undignified, messy, a child in a woman's ( _and eve was weak and lost the raven in the world and momma i am the raven)_ body, screaming at how it wasn't supposed to be like this, trying to run.

Too bad Carrie had frozen her legs to the ground. She caught Chris' eye and smiled, tapping the wires in the girl's brain, and -

"Pig's blood for a pig!" Chris shrieked once more, pointing at Carrie, who, if her falsely surprised ( _poor carrie_ she heard others whisper _she's normal for once and chris wants to ruin it)_ expression is anything to go by, could land her a good role in Hollywood.

 _Ooh_ , she could go to college, now that she wasn't going to die. That was going to be nice. She probably should major in theatre. Or English. Literature. Neurosurgery. Carrie could -

Her thoughts were interrupted: there was a boy, anger running in his mind, dangerous and sharp, and Carrie didn't care for him ( _who is he wait i don't care),_ so she made him trip, fall, and break his neck. There's a sickeningly loud break sound from upstage, and the professors look at each other before one goes to find out what ( _who?_ ) had fallen.

The professors ushered a bloodied Chris out and cancelled prom after they found whatever fell ( _a dead boy and it was billy nolan you know?_ she hears and she knows it's true because, well! She killed him). Tommy smiles, awkwardly, and takes her out in a quiet, timely manner. None of the stampede that killed half of the class tonight.

"Sorry your prom had to end up that way." He started, but Carrie didn't mind - but still, Tommy wasn't supposed to know that, so she stayed quiet. "Do you still want that root beer and hamburger?"

"I would love it." Carrie replied. She paused as they went out, the night air slightly chilly against her skin, an idea forming itself in her head. "We should invite Sue. It's her prom night as well."

Tommy seemed surprised, but smiled. Carrie wrote off her debt to Sue ( _her memories were so useful)._

* * *

Momma was still quiet and pliant ( _wonder which wires made her like that)_ when Carrie arrived home, stuck in the same chair she had forced her to be.

Everyday was the same for momma now: she went to work and was quiet, and then, arrived home and stayed quiet, sitting in her chair until Carrie forced her to sleep. Carrie spoonfed her soup through telekinesis ( _bite me again and i'll take off your teeth momma_ she had said) so she wouldn't starve, but this was bound to end soon.

Carrie smiled at momma, who stared at her without really looking, broken like a doll.

"I had fun, momma." She says, taking off her shoes. She throws them in a corner, and momma quietly simmers in her rage. "And no one died and I wasn't humiliated. That was nice."

A pause. She puts a finger under her chin, thoughts slowly swirling in her head. The taste of the burger's oil made her slow.

"I _guess_ you should die now." She pursed her lips, ( _flex)_ moving the chair around slowly in its own axis. "But I still need the address for my college letters. I'm going, and you can't stop me."

Momma screamed, but Carrie shut her off quickly.

She had no patience for martyrs.

Yawning, Carrie went to have a good night of sleep.

* * *

Carrie decided to forego college completely for the time being, and decided that she had to see more of life before deciding anything. Why rush, right? So she stole money from momma's purse, made a bank account for herself and deposited all the money momma has under her bed ( _because banks aren't to be trusted carrie_ ). She spins a white lie as she messes the wires of the bank teller a bit, and he believes Carrie when she says it's for her college fund.

It's not, but who knows, besides Carrie? She books a train ticket ( _they're nicer)_ for California ( _i've never seen the ocean)_ and sews herself new clothes.

The day she's bound to leave, Carrie made sure she had everything she needed, put her mother to bed, and made sure to unplug every wire that made momma move. She looked at momma, sitting down in the bed, momma clawing inside Carrie's head.

A smile formed itself on her lips.

"I hope you feel happy, momma. You're gonna die alone, and no one will ever notice it." Momma's eyes shone with fear, and Carrie kicked the air mindlessly. "I don't think I'm gonna be sad. I already killed you once. This is just slower."

Momma claws at Carrie's mind, screaming and kicking, but Carrie simply takes off momma's hands from her brain, rises up and pats her skirt (which she has just sewn and looks good, for once in her life; it fits _perfectly_ , for starters) and looks at the dried husk of momma.

"I hope you think about me when you're dying, momma." Carrie says, and doesn't look back when she leaves.

* * *

(margaret white dies a few days later. no one notices for two weeks, when the neighbors call in a welfare check because the house smells like death.)

(she's found in her bed, thin and weak and soiled, and not a whisper of carrietta was found in the house.)

(carrietta white disappeared without leaving an address behind, no money in margaret's account and house.)

(as such, without next of kin, margaret white was buried in a small plot with an even smaller funeral - one where the priest appeared out of pity, and no one other than the gravedigger was a witness to it.)

(at first, the rumour mill churned out that carrietta had carried out the murder and ran away; the lack of money and the sudden disappearance of the girl proved it.)

(and then the wife of the cousin of the doctor's niece, who had performed the autopsy, told the small town that margaret had died not from being murdered, but simply naturally.)

(if starvation could be natural.)

(so when these facts came to light, the story changed: carrietta white had ran away from home, away from her abusive mother)

(and at this point everyone would nod and agree and say "yes quite a nasty bitch that margaret, poor kid")

(and the fact that dear sweet defenseless carrietta had snapped made margaret enter such a shocked state she had simply… forgotten how to live properly.)

(here is the truth: carrietta white had murdered her mother and disappeared.)

(here is another truth: who would believe that sweet defenseless dear carrie did that?)

* * *

Carrie gets herself a terrible apartment with a moldy futon and the smallest bathroom ever, but it's _hers_. The reason she got it was simple: by leaving the smallest gap open, Carrie could wake up with the taste of sea salt in her mouth, and God, she loved it.

There's also the terrible waitressing job ( _why not_ she reasons with herself when she goes for the interview), and half of the fun is messing with the asshole's wires when they're assholes.

She also makes sure to mess with everyone so the waitresses are as well tipped as they can be, and goes on with her day, because she wants to save enough for a good sewing machine.

Sometimes, Carrie wonders if the events of the prom of her past life were nothing but a nightmare - and to make sure, she ( _flex_ ) rises up her moldy futon and ancient television, and then nods to herself, setting them back in place, opening the gap in her window, and letting the taste of the sea lully her to sleep with no blood in her skin.


End file.
